


(don't stop) let's lose control

by Nitzer



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, all of this happens after chani is 18 (intl age), bffs! jaeyoon and youngbin, chani is implied bi, chani lowkey (highkey) has an authority kink, hwi and tae are being bfs in the bg, in like equal portions, jaeyoon's mentioned a lot bc i love him, mildly sexual situations, some commentary on idol culture, the age gap is addressed but not romanticized or fetishized, this got really out of hand even for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitzer/pseuds/Nitzer
Summary: Chani wants a real kiss from Youngbin for his 18th birthday and it all spirals out of control from there (maybe trying to seduce your leader isn't the best plan).





	1. birthday boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place during/after chani's 18th (intl age) bday so no underage tag but like there's still that age gap that's pretty toxic and i don't want to romanticize or fetishize that shit honestly  
> also the timeline is all fucky bc i'm using the layout from one of their old dorms and they had moved by the time chani's 18  
> i'm using everyone's international ages here bc i'm not korean and i don't have a great grasp on korean ages  
> title inspired by Easy Love (that's the line that always gets stuck in my head anyway)

Chanhee’s eighteenth birthday comes with no free days, no vacations, squashed along a late promotion schedule. We have just enough time for a dinner after some taping, though and we make the best of it because he’s the baby. And even though he’s a shitty baby and he torments us constantly and has no respect for any kind of authority, he’s still our baby. So during dinner Juho sneaks out and gets him a cake from the nice café we all like and we all already have presents stashed around the dorms for him. It’s still kind of a big deal for us—the last time we’ll see any of us become an adult again. So we do the best we can with taping in the morning and dance practice early the next morning.

Seokwoo and Inseong team up to set up a kind of surprise party in the kitchen and place the cake and light the candles. And Youngkyun walks Chanhee in, covering his eyes until he gets him to the kitchen. The lights are dim and the candles are pretty, flickering against the angles on Chanhee’s face I guess I never noticed before. Youngkyun takes his hands away from Chanhee’s face and the baby lights up, giving us all the prettiest and most rewarding smile I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

And then we’re all singing “happy birthday” without cue. Sanghyuk smears icing on Chanhee’s nose and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek because he’s touchy and bursting with affection. Then Juho sneaks a quick kiss on the other cheek because he’s just a kissy kid. And then we’re all leaving little kisses on Chanhee under the guise of annoying him (but we’re all really just a little emotional and way too soft for him). I kiss him last, settling behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist before kissing the top of his head. He doesn’t leave my hold until I slip away, too distracted to wiggle out of my grasp like the shitty baby he is, I guess.

The party kinda falls apart after presents when Sanghyuk stops paying attention to the birthday boy to antagonize Inseong about something instead. And then Taeyang and Youngkyun split from the group to go do whatever it is they do when they pair off. I’m pretty sure Chanhee gets dragged to the living room where mini drama party has developed and I’m ready to call it a night like the old man they all make fun of me for being. But Chanhee stops me outside the bathroom first (not actually getting dragged to the drama party or escaping early I guess). “Can I get a birthday favor?” He asks sweetly.

“Can we call it a present?”

He laughs. “Sure, I’ll count it as a present.”

I already got him a special edition copy of a webcomic he’s been reading since before debut that he seemed to really like but I’ll always take bonus points to hold over Jaeyoon later. “What do you want?”

“Wash my hair for me?” It’s a bold request, something that’ll really spoil him. If I agree to it, I’m like super pampering him and really contributing to what a spoiled brat he is sometimes.

“Yeah,” I say anyway. I’m too fucking soft for him. He’s got too much power over the rest of us as the baby.

Chanhee gives me some kind of summary of the webcomic I gifted him while he gets in the tub and I’m not really following but I’m never really following the kids. I enjoy his enthusiasm anyway, though. I kneel down next to the tub once he’s settled, I really shouldn’t be kneeling on tile. I’m old already but I make the sacrifice because it’s the baby’s birthday. I run my hands through his hair, getting a happy sigh out of him. His hair is softer than mine and I use the nice shampoo that smells like vanilla because he already smells sweet like birthday cake.

He looks sweet and pliant under my hands for once—his head tilted back and his eyes slipped closed. He makes a cute and soft contented noise when I rub near his temples. “You know what I really want for my birthday, Binnie?” He asks quietly.

“This isn’t enough?” I laugh, shifting my weight to ease the ache in my knees. My hands are still covered in suds and buried in his hair.

“No,” he hurries out, “no, this is good. It’s really good. Thank you, hyung.” He sings and pushes up into my touch. “But do you know what I really, _really_ want?”

“What?” I expect some expensive tech thing or designer clothes or something.

“A kiss.” He replies simply, tilting his face up in anticipation.

“You already got one.” I sigh but kiss his forehead tenderly because there’s no reason to start denying him now.

“No,” it’s stern and nearly desperate. His hand darts out of the water, clutching into the collar of my shirt. “A real kiss.” The moment freezes and every detail sticks hard in my brain. The damp hand creating a spreading water spot on my shirt. The water droplets sliding down his arm. The fierce determination in his eyes. The new, sharp angles on a pretty face and body, crafted for public consumption. The sweet scent of vanilla.

“No,” I stutter out, “I don’t—”

“But you’re fine with Youngkyun and Taeyang kissing.” He argues.

“That’s—” I sighed, leaving behind my flustered surprise to harden into leader Youngbin. “That’s honestly none of my business, that’s why I’m fine with it.”

“So you’re fine with the members kissing, so you’re fine with this.” He pushes hopefully.

“Yeah, sure, I have no problem with the members kissing.” I concede, wiping my hands on my already damp and ruined shirt. “But do you know how much older Taeyang is than Youngkyun?” He doesn’t break eye contact with me but he doesn’t answer either. “Two years.” I say harshly. “There’s a two years’ difference. I’m _seven_ years older than you, Chanhee, you’ve been a kid—a literal _child_ for the entire time I’ve known you—”

“I’m not a kid anymore!” He whined.

“You turned eighteen _today_.” I hissed.

“Still an adult.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m still _twenty-five_ — _seven_ years older than you.”

“That’s fine, I still want you.”

The honest confession hits my heart. He’s still my baby, I still really do love him. This just isn’t happening. “It’s not fine with me.” I drop like a dead weight onto the conversation. “It’s not healthy. It’s not happening.”

“I trust you not to hurt me.” It’s open and honest and vulnerable.

“I won’t, that’s why I won’t do this.” I’m glad that his hair is already washed because I absolutely need to get away. “Trust someone your age, want someone your age. I’m not gonna do this.” It’s final, it feels harsh but Chanhee wanting to kiss me feels like a slap—feels like _I_ fucked up somewhere with him. I close the door firmly and securely behind me. I don’t slam it because I’m a mature and level-headed leader and that’s what a mature and level-headed leader does.

And then I lock myself in my room, running away from my problems like a scared teenager. I don’t want to avoid it but it seems like the only good option. It’s just a stupid crush. It’s almost cute once the thought of it stops making my stomach turn. It’s just a stupid, cute, baby crush like the kind I had on my babysitter when I was eleven. I don’t want to crush him, I just want him to get over it. So I just have to back off a little bit and wait for him to get over it.

Jaeyoon swings the door to our room open dramatically (like he does everything else) and it makes me jump. “In bed already, old man?” He jokes.

“Gotta think of my health.” I deadpan.

He laughs—pretty and haughty like a princess—and flops down on my bed with me. “So, Binnie, we’ve lost our last baby.” He sighs.

“They’re ours?” I laughed. “You wanna take responsibility for those messes too?”

“Taeyang turned out pretty good.”

“That had nothing to do with you.” I shove him lightly, playfully.

“All the talented children take after me.” He makes sure to get the last line in (like always) before exiting the conversation to get ready for bed.

I feel better after joking around with Jaeyoon, feel some sense of normalcy, feel like I can breathe right again. I just have to wait it out, pull back from Chanhee a little bit and just hope he gets over it.

When I finally fall asleep I dream of curious, fumbling fingers at the collar of my shirt, wandering over the suddenly hyper-sensitive skin of my neck. I grab at the fingers to pull them away and hear the sickening crunch of bones snapping in my too-harsh grip. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t mean to hurt him. And I wake up in weak, early morning sunlight with “I don’t want to hurt him,” sitting on my tongue. So I promise myself that I won’t. I won’t crush him, I won’t be harsh with him but I won’t play into his little crush either. I won’t take advantage of him. He’s an inexperienced, naïve kid and I’m the adult. So I’ll play the part.

It’s shockingly easy to back away from Chanhee, to stop playing into his little crush. I really thought it would be harder like…honestly. There are _so_ many selcas of me and Chanhee in the fan café. Almost all of my pictures have me smothering Chanhee in a hug or him throwing a V sign next to me or him photobombing me with his tongue sticking out in the background. Every cute, informal music video we put out for the fantasies shows me sharing a camera with Chanhee. Gifs of me the fans made from Vlives mostly include Chanhee squashed up next to me. I wonder if always being stuck with him like this is coincidence, the closeness that bred his little crush. Or if it was Chanhee acting purposefully, always making sure to stay close to me. It doesn’t really matter though, because once the proximity is so glaringly obvious to me, it’s a lot easier to back off.

I just stop letting myself be so close to Chanhee all the time. I spend more time with Jaeyoon because he accepts any and all affection as long as it comes with praise. So I laugh at his jokes and teasingly pull at his chokers, telling him how good he looks in them and poke at his dimples, calling him cute. And I shift all my babying to Juho and Sanghyuk, who preen under any attention and both are clingy and physically affectionate like always.

Chanhee doesn’t seem miserable or desperate with me always at the other end of the couch or making sure that Jaeyoon or Inseong are shoved in between us if we have to be on camera together. He shifts some of his affection elsewhere too (although I never felt like I was getting any _affection_ from Chanhee really). He lets Seokwoo baby him more than normal. Seokwoo treats him to lunch and coffee dates and Chanhee finally accepts and when they play video games Seokwoo lets Chanhee win. And it’s only when I really look that I can see Chanhee still quietly annoyed and vaguely bored like he usually is with Seokwoo’s babying. When he’s had enough of Seokwoo, he slides himself in between Taeyang and Youngkyun instead. They love him and get along with him really well but usually leave him third-wheeling.

It’s slightly inconvenient for both of us but it’s workable. I miss Chanhee’s fake annoyance with my affection and his teasing but Jaeyoon is filling the gap in his own way. Chanhee’s getting third-wheeled or disgustingly babied constantly but Seokwoo spoils him more than I ever did and Youngkyun and Taeyang know about more of the stuff that Chanhee’s into than I can. It’s not ideal but it’s not miserable. I make the space between us pointed and purposeful and Chanhee does not infringe upon it.

Until, like the stupidly talented golden maknae he is, Chanhee aces a new dance on day one and I manage to fuck it up pretty bad. There’s a spin into a pose that my body just refuses to land right. Our choreographer tries to help me before kind of giving up and moving onto a more receptive case and assigning Taeyang to me. Taeyang laughs at my gracelessness but I can’t even be mad because it’s cute and he looks like sunshine. “You’re gonna need more help than me, hyung.” He looks around thoughtfully. “Honestly, Chanhee knows this one best.”

And that’s how I get left behind at the dance studio with Chanhee, no more space between us for me to make pointed. I try to make it normal, though. I have no problems learning from the maknae, I know how smart and talented he is. But Chanhee won’t let it be normal. He keeps pulling me too close, skimming his hands over bared skin, smirking at me slyly. It’s more frustrating than anything else. I feel like all the space I carefully crafted between us accomplished nothing at all and I’m not making any progress with the dance.

He backs me against the mirrored wall of the practice room and I have to take a sharp breath through my nose to not snap at him. “What is this, Chanhee? What are you doing?” I breathe out.

“Helping you with the dance, hyung.” He blinks up at me innocently.

I slide away from him. “Look, we’re not getting anywhere.” I do my best to keep my bubbling anger tamped down. This was a waste of time, for the dance and for Chanhee’s little crush. “Just like…why me?” I sigh.

“What?” He doesn’t look like a little minx anymore. He looks genuinely confused.

“Why me? Why do you want me? Why not like…Seokwoo or whoever?”

“Seokwoo’s too much, he treats me like I’m gonna break or something. You treat me like I’m real, like I’m human but you still make me feel safe. I like it when you take care of me.” It’s a confession just this side of bashful.

“I’m your _hyung_ , I’m supposed to make you feel safe. I’m supposed to take care of you—”

“Then take care of me.” He says lowly, eyes flashing dark, grabbing my wrist and guiding my hand to his crotch.

My anger bubbles over but there’s no loud crack, it’s a low rumble that comes out instead. “Chanhee,” I growl, “take your hands off of me right now.”

His eyes flutter closed for a moment, a shiver running through the full length of his body and his grip loosening on my wrist. It almost stuns me—Chanhee _is_ stunning—and I’m gaping and staring for a moment.

“Oh my god,” my voice loses its quiet command and comes out shrill instead, “you’re getting off on this.” I hiss.

He doesn’t answer but the color high on his cheeks and his half-lidded eyes give him away anyway. It’s something that I don’t want to stare at but it’s burned into my mind. And the image of his flushed face slides in right next to the image of him desperate, hand fisted into my shirt, in the bath on his birthday.

“Don’t wrap me up in this.” I tell him, my voice low and biting again. I’m no longer just mad at Chanhee, I’m mad at myself.

“Binnie,” he says quietly, almost shamefully. His hand is no longer holding mine in place, it’s just loosely, softly gripping mine. It’s familiar contact, contact I almost miss, honestly.

“Do whatever you want. Get off on this or whatever. Just don’t include me.”

“Hey,” he says a little more desperately, “please,”

I don’t want to hear whatever will finish that thought. I don’t think I _can_. “No— _listen_ , I’m not going to cradle rob.” I say harshly and slip out the door again.

I hide out in the bathroom to avoid Chanhee because I feel like I just keep making it worse. I saw the desperation and crumbling hope in his eyes and it _stung_ me like every other time I saw him hurt. I hurt him in the way I promised I wouldn’t—snapping harshly at his harmless crush. And then I almost hurt him in the way I absolutely never wanted to. I stared. I stared openly and hungrily at him like he was something I really could touch. I paused to indulge myself before I pushed him away.

 _come pick chanhee up at studio_ , I text Inseong shortly. I can’t be responsible for him anymore. Apparently it’s no good for either of us and I can’t spend any more time with him alone either. Something is spiraling quickly out of control and I don’t know how to bring it back.

I wait, hiding out in the bathroom, until I see that Inseong has at least read my message and then I creep out of the building, praying that Chanhee is anywhere else. I can’t walk Chanhee home, can’t be alone with him for that long and I don’t have a car to drive and I don’t even really care about how late it is enough to call a cab. I walk home alone, feeling my guilt and anxiety rest heavily on me. I feel like my best plan to deal with this isn’t even _good_ and I feel like I’m a problem in this too, not just Chanhee.

When I finally make it into my room in the dorms, Jaeyoon is firmly asleep and I kinda wish he wasn’t. I wanna joke around with him about messing up the dance or being an old man or whatever just to feel some sense of normalcy. I almost crawl into his bed , just so I’m not left alone with my thoughts but it’s not his problem and I really can’t explain what’s going on. So I just crawl into my own bed and for once, dread the morning, dread being a leader and dread the life I got. When I finally fall asleep I don’t dream of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got way out of hand and wasn't supposed to be a chaptered fic so sorry if the chapter breaks are weird  
> hmu on tumblr if you want (i'm pretty much a teen top only blog at this point tho lol, support seoul night btw!) angelinmyheartt.tumblr.com


	2. missing

I do sneak into Jaeyoon’s bed two nights later, still miserable and overwhelmed. He teases me for being “too clingy for a hyung” but lets me stay anyway. Jaeyoon doesn’t go for physical comfort like most of us do, he just lets me curl into him, laying a casual hand over my side. I don’t mind the barely-there contact, he’s still warm and sturdy and I think I like his own kind of care the best anyway. I tell him about how I fucked up really bad this time and how I don’t know the answer anymore and I quietly, quietly finally admit to being exhausted.

“Binnie,” he sighs, “there’s no way it’s that bad. You always work yourself up over this shit.”

“You have no idea.” I mutter.

“Yeah, I don’t because you won’t explain anything to me.” He laughs and he looks really pretty when he laughs. “You wanna give me some kind of idea?”

I can’t. I really can’t. I don’t know if Chanhee has told anyone else in the dorms but I’m not gonna be the one to out him. I’m really trying not to crush him. And also I feel like it makes me look bad. _I_ fucked up here too and explaining that little flicker of want I felt for Chanhee to Jaeyoon will just leave me feeling worse, more disgusting. So I just shake my head against his chest.

He sighs—deeper and more dramatically than before—making it really obvious he’s annoyed with my answer. “Okay,” he concedes, “Just know that you’re actually really good at this. You’re really good at fixing what you fuck up, you’re really good at problem solving and you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna fix this too.”

I really, really appreciate the rare sincerity from Jaeyoon. I thought I would joke around with him to feel normal again but instead he pokes around my insides and mends what he can see. “I love you, Jaeyoon.” I say without any kind of joke or game to go with it, as open and sincere as he was with me.

“Cute,” he appraises, “how cute. I’ll pin your heart up with all the other ones I’ve stolen.”

Jaeyoon’s natural…I don’t know, natural whatever that I like so much pulls laughter out of me, makes my heart feel lighter, makes me better. I’m maybe, definitely blessed to be rooming with him.

Chanhee does something I never could’ve expected after the dance practice episode—he backs off. He completely backs off. He doesn’t try to corner me anywhere, doesn’t try to get me alone, doesn’t send me flirty little looks, doesn’t do anything flirty. I don’t even have to make space between us anymore, it’s already there. He slides easily back into his new social circle of Taeyang and Youngkyun and Seokwoo which forces me back towards Jaeyoon and Juho (and sometimes the two overlap with Seokwoo).

It should be some kind of victory for me—this is what I wanted, Chanhee rejected but not crushed—but it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like one. I feel mostly empty and disgusting. I feel like Chanhee noticed my fleeting moment of reciprocation and that’s why he backed off. I feel like I took advantage of him somehow. I feel like a fucking creep for that one tiny moment where I saw something so beautiful my resolve crumbled. But beyond all that moral shit, I _miss_ Chanhee. I just miss him.

I miss my shitty, little baby. I miss the kid I watched grow up. I miss the talented actor that awed us all. I miss the deadpanned jokester that knew too much about all of us. I miss my rap partner. I miss my _friend_. I miss bouncing lyrics off of him in the cramped office room we shouldn’t be sharing. I miss him rushing into my practice room, phone in hand, determined to show me whatever comeback just blew his fucking mind. I miss the times when I’d trip on my out of the cafeteria and Chanhee would shoot me a look over from across the room that said “I saw that.” I miss him texting me memes and then calling me and old man when I don’t understand them. I missed everything about Chanhee.

But I could get over that. I could bear that weight, I was the leader after all. I could miss Chanhee until I enlisted and SF9 was no more. I’d be fine. As long as he got over it. As long as Chanhee was fine and happy and not crushed or permanently scarred, I’d be fine. He had plenty of time, millions of years to fall in love again. And I could miss him until he did some drama and fell in love with his cute costar on set and started a few rumors or whatever. My feelings didn’t matter, I had to take care of the group.

So it was going okay, I guess. I didn’t have to make space anymore at least. Then my door creaked open, leaking a soft light over me late one night. Chanhee stood in the doorway, a blanket draped over his shoulders, looking small and scared. “Hyung?” He whispered into the darkness.

“Jaeyoon sleeps like a rock, you’re gonna have to be louder than that.” I answer.

He drags his foot along the ground, looking down. “I was actually looking for you, Binnie.” He admits.

I know it looks bad (especially considering our last interaction), him sneaking into my room, late at night like some kind of clandestine affair. I know it’s probably bad for both of us too, whatever he wants. But I’m exhausted, worn down under the general stress of being an idol and my own emotional strain. “That’s probably a bad idea.” I warn.

“I just…couldn’t sleep.” He admits softly.

“Seokwoo wouldn’t share?”

“He takes up too much space in his bed already.” He complains and inches closer. “Can I stay with you?”

“Depends,” I answer, “are you gonna try anything?”

“I just wanna go to sleep.” He agrees and I believe him, his eyes are heavy with sleep-deprivation and his hair is all mussed from tossing and turning.

“Alright.” I concede and lift the covers as a silent invitation. When Chanhee shuffles in, the problem of the whole thing becomes a million times more apparent. Even though neither of us take up as much space as Seokwoo, the beds are still small and we’re squashed up against each other. We’re too close and it’s dark and we’re alone essentially (because it takes the _most_ to wake up Jaeyoon) and this is honestly what I was afraid of.

Chanhee keeps his word and doesn’t try anything, just fits himself into the spaces available to him. He wraps his blanket over us too and I know it’s not gonna be comfortable in a few hours with two blankets, sharing body heat but we’ll sort that out later. He backs into me so we’re spooning basically (not a new experience for us, or most of the members honestly) because it’s the easiest and most comfortable way to share a bed. “Is this too much?” He asks quietly.

“It’s okay.” I hum, pulling him closer into me. There’s nothing about this that makes me feel miserable or disgusting and I miss this. I miss the contact. I miss being able to comfort Chanhee. I miss being good for him. “Why can’t you sleep?”

He laughs sadly into me. “I don’t know, nightmares I guess?” He throws out and I don’t press. “I missed you too. I missed you a lot. I missed you just touching me, touching me at all, in any way.” He admits. “I keep having nightmares that you’re just gone—that you were never there or that no one but me remembers you…” He trails off. “I’m always afraid that I’m the reason you’re gone.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about the dream still or real life.

I tug him into me as close as I can and feel his heart hammering in his chest against me. I don’t care really. I don’t care if this is something that he sees as romantic or whatever. I just want him to know that I’m still here, that I’m not gone. “I missed you too.” I whisper into his hair. I kiss the top of his head and hold him as close as I can. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His body unwinds against mine, I can feel his heartbeat slow down. He snuggles back into me. “Thank you, Binnie.” He murmurs before he falls asleep against me.

It does get too hot pretty easily and I wake up in weak sunlight, sweating and half-tangled up in one of the blankets. Chanhee is still in my hold, slightly flushed and snoring lightly. He looks like an angel and the bags under his eyes don’t look quite as dark anymore. We really are alone this time, Jaeyoon having an early morning Chinese lesson. I don’t have anywhere to be yet and neither does Chanhee so I let him sleep. While I’m trying to untangle myself from the blankets and free myself from the heat prison, though, I bump against Chanhee and he shifts against me, stretching and yawning.

Chanhee peeks his cute little head out of the covers and looks around confusedly before burying his face back in the blankets and groaning. "Do I have to be up yet?"

"I guess not." I laugh.

"Good." He answers and gets comfortable again. Or at least he tries to. He shuffles and flops around for a little bit before finally admitting defeat. "I guess I'm up." He grumbles.

"Too bad, you were so cute when you slept." I joke.

He headbutts my side. "I'm always cute." He complains. "Wheres my phone anyway?"

"In your room probably." I answer.

He groans again and buries himself further in the blankets.

I settle down next to him and slide my hands through his hair. "Can I ask you something?"

He looks up at me, all doe-eyed and pliant again. Things don't feel normal anymore. "What?" He seems nervous.

"Is it like a leader thing? Is that what it is with me?"

He buries his face in his hands. "Oh my god, _hyung_!" He whines.

"No, really," I try, "because there are other leaders out there for you." I offer.

"I don't..." He doesn't even finish.

"What about Chan? From Stray Kids? They seem to be going places."

"I can't be with anyone whose name is that close to mine." He laughs.

"How about Jihyo? She's really cute and she's Taeyang’s age and like, let's be real, Twice are _the_ girl group right now." 

"Stop playing matchmaker." He whines. "You're not my mom."

"Mark!" I suddenly remember. "The kid from NCT? He leads the baby unit. He's like your age."

"Mark Lee?" Chanhee hisses. " _The_ Mark Lee? No fucking way, he's so out of my league."

"No one is out of your league, believe in yourself, you're a catch." I encourage.

His eyes sparkle with something pretty or mischievous. "I'm not...it's not leaders, oh my god, stop trying to set me up." He rolls his eyes. "This is like the worst situation I could possibly find myself in."

“I could actually set you up on a blind date.” I threaten.

Apparently I had finally embarrassed him enough to push him away because he wiggles out of my bed and wraps his blanket around him. “I’m _not_ fucking doing this.” He tells me with a teasing smile and slips out the door.

Having my own words thrown back at me like that—like maybe it’s understood, like maybe it’s a joke now, like maybe things are okay—stings me and brings a smile to my face in the same breath. It feels like everything has come full circle. Or maybe there’s something new simmering under both of our skins. Either way it feels better. It feels like something in my body has finally clicked back into place. I feel…I don’t know, fully functional or something like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my cut-off for groups is when the leader is my age or younger so like i couldn't think of a lot of baby leaders but i definitely do know mark


	3. dare to touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is where the M rating really comes into play but it's still not really that explicit? if you don't have a degradation kink/really like being talked down to this won't be that sexual, the worst it gets is a brief, nondescript jack off scene tbh

Me and Chanhee find somewhere in the middle, in between us, close to normal again. I don’t have to make the space between us pointed anymore. I don’t even have to make space in between us anymore. Chanhee is back to distracting me or annoying me or inspiring me in my cramped practice room at the company again. He’s back to roping me into whatever new video game only to absolutely destroy me because I have no idea what I’m doing. We have skinship again and I’m not afraid of where it’ll go.

I tuck Chanhee under my arm during a break in dance practice, against the mirrored wall he pushed me against once and he just whines about both of us being too sweaty like nothing ever transpired there. I kiss him on camera and he screams his signature high-pitched scream and doesn’t purse his lips at me to tempt me. I stay up with him late after concerts and listen to him ramble until he exhausts himself and falls asleep, slumped over on his bed. I sit too close, face-to-face, with him under dim, back room lights to take off his make up for him after performances. And none of that turns into anything.

It’s comfortable. It’s easy. It feels _good_ again. And the fan café has selcas of both of us again and everything is right in SF9 again. I have Chanhee back without taking advantage of him. I get to have my cake and eat it too.

I’ve almost entirely forgotten about the _want_ Chanhee showed me—pulled me into—briefly. We’re friends, groupmates, leader and maknae again. And there’s nothing weird. The uncomfortable things Chanhee plopped into our relationship have left (except for the once, twice, maybe a few times where Chanhee’s flushed face and half-lidded eyes resurface in my brain and stun me with his beauty again).

But I’m not thinking about any of that when Inseong sets up a group movie night for the new Marvel movie (I barely, _barely_ refrain from calling him a fucking nerd when he invites me). I show up almost late to the movie because of a meeting with the company, leader duties and all, and find a spot for me squashed between Taeyang and the armrest. I settle in for probably a nap because there’s no fucking way I’m staying awake for a superhero movie only to watch Chanhee walk in actually late to the movie.

He plops himself into my lap once the snacks make it over to me and steals some (that he doesn’t share) before passing the rest along, not letting me take any. He settles more comfortably into my lap and pops one of the chocolates into his mouth smugly. “You gonna stay there for the whole movie?” I ask, somewhat irritably.

He nods and smirks like a _stupidly_ pleased cat.

“I can’t see anything, though.” I complain, resting my forehead against his shoulder blade.

“I’m small!” He argues. “You’re fine.” He concludes, popping another chocolate in his mouth. “Anyway, I know you hate superhero movies.”

“At least share your snacks.” I grumble.

He makes challenging eye contact with me and opens his bag of chips. “No.”

“Evil maknae.” I complain, pinching at his side. He was right, though and I don’t care that I can’t see. I wrap my arms around his waist and settle him into the most comfortable position in my lap before nodding off to a laser battle or something. I wake up to something being pushed insistently against my lips.

“Cute,” Chanhee whispers as I unconsciously try to eat whatever is near my mouth. I wonder for a second if he’s kissing me. He’s not. He’s just pushing a chocolate into my mouth. I take the chocolate from him and scrape my teeth against his fingers as a warning.

“Thanks for sharing.” I sing, too sweet to be sincere.

He snatches his hand back and holds his snacks against him protectively, grumbling. He does manage to share after that, though and I dip my hands into the chocolate bag, to keep myself occupied more than for the candy. And when Chanhee finally bats my empty hand out of the bag, I try to keep myself busy by playing with the wrappers but the crinkling starts to annoy even me. So I play with the hem of his shirt, his fingers, whatever I can I reach with my arms wrapped around him. I feel his heartbeat pick up through the thin fabric of his shirt but it doesn’t really mean anything to me as I nod off again.

I wake back up to Chanhee shifting in my lap and I don't even bother clinging to my consciousness because I can still vaguely hear explosions and feel Taeyang next to me so it's still movie time. So it's still nap time for me. But Chanhee keeps shifting, keeps moving around on me insistently—little barely noticeable movements. I curl one of my arms around his waist to settle him and realize that he has my other hand settled on his hip, fingers intertwined with mine. "Why so fidgety?" I asked him, voice low and rough with sleep.

"Keeping myself busy." He answers vaguely and the steady, sped up thumping of his heartbeat registers against my ears again.

"Well, get settled." I tell him, soothing my hand over his hip and holding him closer.

"Yes, hyung." He breathes out and I watch a shiver run up the full length of his body... _again_. And my sleep-fogged brain finally places the weird, barely sing-songy tone in Chanhee's voice as open submission. He doesn't stop shifting in my lap either except it's really more than shifting. It's controlled circles, he's purposefully rubbing back against me—he’s _grinding_ against me.

"Chanhee," I growl, my brain not quite catching up to the low, demanding tone I shouldn't be using with Chanhee when he's like this, "what are you doing?"

He doesn't answer, just keeps grinding down. I watch a barely-there whine escape beautifully parted lips and feel my hand involuntarily tighten my hold on his hip.

I know—I _know_ things are spiraling desperately out of control but my brain can't quite find the right answer to bring it back. "Ya," I breathe against his neck, "answer." I command simply. And shit, _shit_ , I can tell I'm playing into it. This is what he wants out of me, it's in no way actually reprimanding him or getting him to stop. But I'm caught between the decent part of my brain, the part I always listen to, that wants this to stop and the part that's transfixed by the taught line of his neck, straining to bear all he can to me, that just wants to bite down on the junction of his neck and his shoulder and leave fingerprint-shaped bruised on his hips.

"What feels good." He finally answers me, just loud enough to be considered words. I can't believe that his little stunt hasn't gotten the attention of the other members but a furtive glance to my side tells me that Taeyang is in his own little world with Youngkyun and the others are too far away to notice the little circles of his hips or his heavy panting. 

"What do you think you're gonna get out of this?" I'm nearly sneering. There's nothing reprimanding about it anymore, it's all in-control condescension. 

"Whatever you'll give me." It comes out like a plea and, _god_ , I'm ready to give him so much. "Anything you'll give me, hyung."

I remove my arms from his waist and push him forward roughly (not hard, just enough to make some space). "Up." I grunt. If I think long enough to form anything other than a one word command I genuinely don't know what will happen. Chanhee slides off my lap with an absolutely stunning, half-lidded look thrown over his shoulder and then he slinks back to the bedrooms. I follow him a moment later, no one suspicious of our departures, amazingly. 

He waits for me near the door to my shared room with Jaeyoon, I push him back towards his instead. He backs himself against a wall, looking still me with wide, lust-blown eyes as I kick the door to the room closed. I use one arm to cage him in against the wall and the other to pin one of his wrists against the wall. He keeps the other wrist against the wall of his own accord and if there’s one thing I never expected from Chanhee, it’s _obedience_. “What was that little _stunt_ out there, baby?” I spit out and the pet name slips out without my permission (although nothing that’s happening here is happening with my permission at this point, it’s all just happening while I watch with awe).

His head is turned against the wall like he’s suddenly embarrassed after grinding against me in a living room packed with our groupmates. It allows him an air of faked innocence (I’m not really sure it’s faked, though, I’m…really not) while also baring an unmarked plane of skin to me. “Wanted you to touch me.” He murmurs.

“I was touching you.” I remind him, getting close enough to feel my breath fanning out against his neck. “I was touching you all over. How _greedy_ can you get?” I spit out.

“Wanted this.” He twists his captured wrist, showing off his submission. “Want to be marked.” He admits quietly.

“You really think you’re gonna get what you want after what you just pulled?” My mouth is so close to his neck and he asked to be marked. He _asked_. It’s an impossibly thin thread of self-control that stops me from scraping my teeth against the delicate skin as some kind of warning. “I think you deserve to be punished instead.”

He whines desperately, pushing his hips forward for some kind of contact.

“What do you think?” I ask teasingly, keeping him far enough away that the only contact he can get is my forearm braced against his chest and my hand pinning his wrist down.

“Do it then.” He hisses out and there’s a fiery glint in his eyes. It’s not just open submission anymore, it’s something that burns hotter and demands more.

My brain stutters at this new development (which is maybe more beautiful, more tempting than anything Chanhee’s ever shown me before—anything I’ve ever seen before) and I can’t think of what to do next. I have no response to his demand and I just stop. And suddenly it’s too hot, I can’t fucking breathe and everything is out of my control. And I need out. _I need out_. I press him as firmly as I can against the wall with the forearm braced against his chest without hurting him. “Fine.” I tell him without thinking and rush out of the room before my brain can fully catch up to what happened.

I’m back in my shared room, locked clicked in place, laying in my bed alone with my brain still running on instinct and adrenaline. My hand slips into my pants without my permission, without thinking. If I could, if I had, none of this would’ve happened at all. There aren’t any words left in my brain, it’s just a hot, frantic montage of barely connected fantasies. My hands threaded through soft, vanilla-scented hair, pulling roughly. Curious and inexperienced hands wandering, exploring over my skin. Dark marks on the delicate skin of his bared neck. Swollen, pink lips wrapped around me experimentally. Fingerprint-shaped bruises on the hidden skin of his hips.

I come in weak spurts to the image of doe-eyes turning defiant, turning fiery. There is no high, no post-orgasmic haze. My stomach turns violently once my brain finally starts functioning again. I’m finally feeling things properly, thinking properly. But there’s no answer. There’s no taking back what I’ve already done. There’s no fixing this.

I robotically, emptily clean myself up with tissues from Jaeyoon’s side of the room (he probably has them for something practical and innocuous like his allergies and not for jacking off to the maknae though). I still feel sticky and gross and think about taking another shower but once I toss the tissue into the trash I realize that it’s more of a psychological thing than a physical thing and just curl myself up in my bed. I think about moving over to Jaeyoon’s bed, to feel less like I’m wallowing in my own filth and less like I’m alone but I feel toxic—contagious—and I don’t want to spread whatever disgusting thing is covering the outside of me.

I don’t remember what I dream when I finally fall asleep but whatever it is leaves my heart hammering in my chest and the taste of bile in the back of my throat.


	4. timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer's block, my dudes, i s2g i started like four other projects to avoid working on this one but we still got a chapter left

It’s a couple miserable days of avoiding Chanhee and then avoiding everyone to really effectively avoid Chanhee. I throw myself into practicing too late into the night and too long. I spend way more time with Juho in the studio. And whatever free time I have is spent laying in my bed watching really cheesy and terrible dramas. I’m trying not to look but Chanhee doesn’t seem much better. He’s mopey and dejected, unusually cuddly and touchy with both Taeyang and Youngkyun. I hear from the others that Chanhee actually makes a semi-permanent place for himself in Taeyang and Youngkyun’s pushed together beds and that idea makes my stomach sink even further into the ground. There’s nothing I can do, though, every time I take any kind of step towards him I hurt both of us.

The others take over as best they can but I barely register it through the horrid, staticky numbness of my own guilt. Youngkyun and Taeyang make space in their bed for him and take him to an arcade to cheer him up. Seokwoo tries his best to recreate Chanhee’s favorite dish from home one night. I can vaguely feel them all buzzing around to take care of Chanhee in any way they can. And in between that I can feel Jaeyoon and Inseong’s increasing worry over me and never once does anyone connect the two miseries.

Eventually everyone, I guess (but especially the older members), gets sick of me overworking myself and isolating myself and generally being no fun and worrying. So Jaeyoon gets shoved into our shared room one afternoon with a quick, “just fix him,” from Inseong.

“’Fix me’?” I muse. “Tall order.”

He sighs. “I probably have the best shot.”

He probably did. I could already feel the buzzing static in my brain calming down.

“What are you watching?” He asks, climbing into bed next to me.

“Bad dramas.” He makes sure to get close to me, holding me and stroking a soothing hand over my arm. “You don’t have to do that. I know this isn’t you.” I tell him.

He softens up against me. “Binnie, just let someone take care of you for once.”

I suck in a sharp breath at his words. “You know how Chanhee’s been like this for a while too?”

“Yeah?” Jaeyoon responds slowly, almost suspiciously.

“You guys ever think it had something to do with me?”

“Does…it?” He finally asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I should’ve kept farther away.”

“What did you do? Did you even _do_ anything?”

“Chanhee wants me to take care of him…like sexually, like a boyfriend. Like he likes me, he wants me or whatever.” I breathe out even though I really didn’t wanna reveal a secret that was never mine.

“And you don’t feel the same way?” He prompts.

“I’m gonna be real,” I laugh emptily, “I’m not feeling a whole lot right now but like shouldn’t I be feeling that way about Chanhee anyway, not wanting him back? I should only be feeling brotherly things, right?”

“There are no _right_ feelings.” Jaeyoon sighs.

“I have _fantasies_ of him. I want him—really, truly—in a way I don’t want anything or anyone else.” I rush out because I’m ready for Jaeyoon to hate me already, all of them to hate me honestly. I’m ready to be disgusting out in the open. “Is that a ‘right feeling’?”

“Ya,” he drops all formalities, forcing me to look at him, “you’re _allowed_ to be attracted to people.”

“Not kids.”

“He’s not a kid. He said he wanted you. He wants you. There’s consent, it’s okay.”

“I’m supposed to teach him better than this.”

“So teach him!” He yells. “This isn’t fucking hard, oh my god, you and your stupid, misaligned moral compass.”

“I’m not supposed to want this kid that I watched grow up, a kid seven years younger than me!”

“You’ve only known him for like three years, you barely even watched him grow up at all. You’re attracted to a really talented and wonderful person who you live with and who likes you too. Just…just _enjoy_ it, god.”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt him. I don’t wanna be responsible for something so precious.” I admit quietly.

“That’s kind of disgustingly mushy but I think it really proves that you’d try your best for him and that’s what matters.” He smiles at me softly and I realize that the static in my brain has stopped. “That’s all relationships are, trying your best.”

“I’m gonna have to fix this aren’t I?” I ask, apprehensive.

“You’re the one with more experience here and I don’t think he even knows that you reciprocate his feelings.” The hand that forced me to look at him is soft against my face now, stroking down my cheek.

I melt happily into his touch (a rare treat that I relish in whenever I get it). “Once I get a chance.” I agree.

“Look at you,” he sighs, running his fingers through the short hairs near my neck, “so clingy.”

“You’re never like this, gotta enjoy it while it lasts.” I nuzzle back into his touch, pushing into his space.

“Because you always get like this.” He laughs and pushes me back just a little bit. “You’re only like this with me, aren’t you?” He coos. I don’t answer but I doubt I have to. He opens his space back up to me, gives me an opportunity to be clingy again and I rush into it. He strokes through my hair and down my back. “Cute,” he murmurs, “how cute, my little Binnie.” Jaeyoon stays with me until the end of the episode I was in and I guess he really does get to take care of me anyway. (He’s the only one I will let try anyway.)

It takes a couple days, surprisingly, for a good time to talk to Chanhee to arise. Through all my own self-isolation and new projects we really _are_ busy with individual lessons and regular schedules. And Chanhee’s really taking his vocal lessons seriously and I’m always in meetings with the company and by the time I get back to the dorms Chanhee’s asleep or out too.

It’s only when I know I have to turn in lyrics to the company soon and I don’t have enough done so I stay at the dorms for a change of scenery that I find a good time with Chanhee. He passes by me while I'm taking up all the space on the couch for once, trying to get some inspiration from my millionth watch through of _Show Me the Money 4_. "Aren't you supposed to be writing lyrics too?" I ask him.

He backtracks into the living room. "I traded my lyric responsibilities in for choreo responsibilities." He responds with a smug smile.

"Bullshit, no way you got off that easy."

"You wanna do the choreo, hyung?" He taunts.

"I'll trade." I shoot back.

"You're not even writing your lyrics." He snorts and the whole thing flows between us so easily I don't even realize that it's something we ever lost.

"Inspiration." I explain shortly, waving my hand at the TV.

"I've seen you watch that Black Nut stage with Jessi like once a week at least. What could you be possibly getting out of that?" 

"It's a majorly inspirational stage." I defend.

"Whatever, don't procrastinate too much." He resumes his path down the hallway towards our rooms.

"You wanna watch too?" I blurt out. It isn't smooth or planned or controlled. I should've spent busy nights planning something out but I never did. I let myself wing it.

He raises his eyebrow at me like he wants me to reconsider. I don't know if somewhere between the movie night incident and my talk with Jaeyoon and now Chanhee had also reconsidered. If he decided that he really didn't want me, decided that the age gap _was_ toxic, that _I_ was toxic. If this whole thing was destined to eternally be a tangled mess of unrequited feelings. I didn't know. I just knew that I wanted something close to normal again.

So I make space for him on the couch, patting it invitingly. "C'mere." 

He does—slowly, hesitantly, cautiously. He slides himself onto the farthest cushion, squashed against the arm of the couch. I really, really want to remind him what happened on that cushion, against that armrest less than a week ago, remind him that there's no hiding over there. But I don't because I'm supposed to be nice to him, I'm supposed to comfort him.

“I missed all the auditions already?” He complains.

“You’re here in time for the cypher, though.”

“The cypher’s a fucking mess.” He groans.

I couldn’t argue, the cypher is a major fucking mess. Chanhee is doing his best to pretend everything is normal, I can tell. It’s just _not_ normal. It’s like unavoidably _not_ normal. He’s squishing himself into the same position I was in when he decided to grind against me in front of all of our groupmates to avoid contact with me. It was so ridiculous and counterintuitive it was almost funny. The distance between us is no longer purposefully pointed, not a warning anymore, just awkward, just an unfortunate side effect.

It’s awkward with Chanhee and I hate it. It’s awkward and it’s even more awkward that we’re dancing around it, trying to hide it. I accept the occasional moments of awkwardness with Juho (because he sometimes takes a while to piece together what he wants to say) or Sanghyuk (because he often oversteps boundaries without realizing) but Chanhee’s always been comfortable (overly comfortable, taking my lap as a seat when there are a million other options comfortable, laying in my bed when I’m not even around comfortable, getting my help to make my _own_ seaweed soup on my birthday comfortable) with me for so long that I don’t know what to do with this suffocating awkwardness.

“C’mere.” I instruct again, gesturing closer to me.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, this time clearly, verbally.

“I don’t know, are you gonna let it be normal?” I say without thinking. There’s no reason to make that kind of…I don’t know, warning, stipulation, threat? I’m pretty sure we’re alone in the dorms and I’ve (kind of, almost) accepted that I want him. We have a free card to do anything we want.

He shrinks back into the arm of the couch at the question like I snapped at him. I might have. I probably did.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” I don’t even know what I didn’t mean. I just know that I’m not supposed to be a dick right now and I’m snapping out of habit and instinct. I scoot over to him and maneuver him into the space between my legs, wrapping my arms around him.

He sucks in a sharp breath as I’m getting him into my lap. “Maybe don’t do shit like that then, if you want this to be normal.” He says lowly.

I apologetically smooth his hair down. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” I tell him truthfully. I know every time I try to do anything to admonish, to punish, to correct him, he’s just getting off on it instead. I should’ve expected the manhandling thing too. “Comfy, though?” I make sure.

He shifts, leans back into me, leans forward, tests how close he can get, lets his hands skitter quickly over my thighs before settling against me. “Yeah,” he confirms. It still feels a little bit like a test—like _I’m_ being tested I guess—while Chanhee twists a little bit in my hold, lets his hands wander a little bit, tries to get some kind of reaction out of me.

I don’t give him one because with every stray and curious touch he relaxes more. The more he tests and I don’t snap, he melts into me and things are slowly, slowly on their way to becoming actually normal again. He, finally, some episodes or something like that later, actually gets settled and stops fidgeting against me and channels that energy into occasionally tapping out lyrics on his phone but mostly he channels it into talking over a season we’ve both seen too many times.

It’s halfway through his description of his ideal stage with Tablo (that I’ve heard at least four times since I’ve known him now but I haven’t stopped him from telling it to me once so far) that I realize things _are_ normal. They’re not heading to normal or on their way to normal or some approximation of normal, they just _are_. Chanhee’s situated comfortably in my lap telling me his Tablo thing (again) and it’s not like it was before (before his birthday, before he was 18, before we both wanted the other) but it’s some new kind of normal that feels just as good.

Chanhee grabs my soda can (without asking, like always) and takes a swig, briefly pausing his rant about why Myundo fucking sucks (at least I think that’s what he’s saying, that’s what I’d be saying anyway because Myundo fucking sucks and it’s been three seasons of his mediocrity already). As he sets the can back down my eyes linger over the mark his chapstick left and I think about how my lips were there moments ago. And I watch his lips finish up his last thoughts (for now) on the show and think about the angle I would have to take to kiss him from this position. And then I think about everything else I’ve been through with him by this point without a proper kiss. We still never got around to the thing that started it all. And this is the closest we got, his lips in the same spot mine had been, an indirect kiss at best.

He’s sitting still in my lap, really taking in the team diss battle (it’s not even Black Nut’s turn yet and we’ve seen _this_ specific stage more times than I can remember), in sweats and a t-shirt with a hole rubbed into the collar. It really is beautiful in a way that doesn’t stun me or floor me. Chanhee’s not forcing me to look at his beauty this time—I’m not even sure he knows how deeply, _deeply_ beautiful he is—he’s just existing. I’m flooring myself. My hand twitches against his and my breath catches in my throat and I’m really, really thinking about just kissing him, _finally_ kissing him.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips over the chapstick (a bad habit that’s probably the reason for the chapstick in the first place) and I’m mesmerized. It’s not even sexy, I’ve seen sexy from him. It’s…cute? It’s endearing? Whatever it is catches my breath in my chest and I have to fully confront _wanting_ him again and all that entails. But wanting him feels so perfect, so inevitable. It’s not hurried and frenzied like Chanhee had always tried to make it. It’s soft and sunlight is streaming its way over Chanhee’s face and I’m seeing all those pretty angles that I noticed for the first time in the flickering flames of birthday candles. My hand curls over his because it is finally, finally the perfect time to say, “I want you too,” to say, “I don’t just want you for the night, I want you forever.”

And I’m still not sure if he knows how I feel. I’m not sure how he feels anymore either. I just know how I feel in this unbelievably perfect moment. I’m recalculating the angle I need to kiss him, wondering if I have to shift him out of my lap (and really not wanting to) when his pretty pink lips part again to let out a spill of excited words about Sik-K and team AOMG and the moment is broken. The sun shifts itself behind something and stops beaming off of Chanhee’s face and my fingers untwine from his because he’s using his hands to punctuate his points about the lyrics or the delivery or something else I haven’t quite caught onto yet.

I’m nodding along with him (I was gone for at least half of what he was saying though) and agreeing because he’s just so into it. And I don’t really want to kiss him anymore. At least not like before. I don’t mind, though. _Some other time_ , I tell myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was more faithful to the smtm cannon in this chapter than i have been to sf9 cannon this entire fic bc i'm SUCH a hoe for smtm (so like stan Black Nut where ever he may be out there and avoid myundo and his mediocrity)


	5. easy love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a ONESHOT everyone and here we are at chapter five, 12k words

Some other time comes on a cloudless day free of schedules. I’m not planning on spending any time with Chanhee really. I’m not planning anything with Chanhee anymore, I’m just letting whatever fall into my lap because it feels so much better when it’s natural. And things do keep falling into my lap, unorchestrated and unplanned just like before Chanhee’s birthday, before any of this. It’s a different kind of normal, though, now. There’s a different undercurrent running through everything we do—drawing out touches, staying close when we no longer have to, seeking each other out instead of just falling into each other.

During an impromptu Vlive from Sanghyuk, he bursts into my practice room to show the fans me, presumably, but Chanhee’s already there too, mostly goofing off. “Ah, we got the maknae too, everyone.” Sanghyuk announces excitedly to the fans. “These two are always working together.”

“Team work makes the dream work.” I say to the camera and go to high five Chanhee.

“Exactly what I expect from the old man,” Sanghyuk sighs and turns the camera back to him, “don’t you guys wanna go see _anyone_ else?”

Chanhee catches my hand before I can pull it back and interlaces our fingers, letting our hands drop below the table.

“Are you sure?” Sanghyuk asks the camera in his cutesy voice. “I know Inseong will give us the same terrible jokes, maybe Rowoon is with him.” There’s a brief pause before we both watch his shoulders slump in defeat. “No? You wanna stay with grandpa and the baby? Ok.”

Sanghyuk asks us some basic questions about what we’re doing, fields some questions from the comments and generally rushes through the whole thing to move on to someone more interesting. Through the whole thing, Chanhee keeps his hand in mine under the table. There’s no reason to hide it like that, the fans would probably love the fanservice and there’s no way it’s totally hidden. It’s probably obvious from the angle of both of our arms what we’re doing (then again, it’s Sanghyuk’s broadcast so maybe no one has looked that hard). Our hands stay under the table, though—hidden—and the stupid, arbitrary secretiveness of it all still makes my face heat up a tiny bit, finding a rush in sneaking around.

After a show I walk into our dressing room, finding Chanhee trapped in a sweater with a bunch of straps decorating the outside. “Binnie? Hyung? Help please.” He whines.

“How’d you know it was me?” I ask, stepping forward, trying to untangle the straps.

“I don’t know.” He huffs, wiggling in my grasp. “Lots of things, I guess? How long have we lived together, you know?”

My heart picks up its pace at the realization that I could probably do the same thing with Chanhee—that he smelled a certain way and his footsteps fell a certain way and the way he moved was different from everyone else. And all those things mean that Chanhee is here and I always take notice of them because “Chanhee is here” is a one of my favorite things to know. When I finally free him from the sweater, I almost kiss him even though it’s _pointedly_ the wrong moment just because I like him so much and he’s so cute, slightly flushed and mussed from the wardrobe mishap. But I don’t because I really can’t because we’re backstage at Inkigayo and KNK is sharing the dressing room with us.

There was now a thrumming, quiet undercurrent of _want_ in our normal I guess. It was quiet, though, barely acknowledged, barely even having an effect. It wasn't burning, it never spiked, it was just there—an unexpected and inevitable addition to our relationship. It was good for us, honestly, probably. It gave us a cute, tentative _something_ that could make me blush, make my heart pound, make me wonder and hope. It's what Chanhee deserves anyway. He deserves something light and hopeful and I'm glad I could slow him down after he tried to rush into everything headfirst (and cutely holding hands under a table is probably a better speed for him than shoving my hand against his crotch).

I'm happy to wait, to sit in limbo for a little while. I like the butterflies in my stomach, the uncertainty, it feels like I'm in high school again, fumbling over a crush. And I know there will be a time for something more concrete than secretive hand holding and lingering touches. I know that I'll get around to kissing him sometime under clear sunlight or flickering candles or dim hotel lights. I'm happy to wait for the perfect moment because I have years of this stretching ahead of me in my mind already.

So on a cloudless day free of schedules I don’t even plan on seeing Chanhee. I know that Taeyang and Youngkyun went back to that arcade they took Chanhee a while back and I assumed that Chanhee went with them again. I’m indulging myself in a cheesy, old drama I used to watch with my mom after school, waiting around for Inseong to get back from brunch ( _brunch_ , genuinely) with Seokwoo so we could go grocery shopping.

“Youngbin? Hyung?” Chanhee’s perched in my doorway like he’s nervous, keeping himself firmly outside of my room like he’s waiting for permission or something.

“I thought you went to the arcade with Taeyang and Younkyun?” I roll my body over just enough to face him.

“No, that’s like a _date_ and I’m not trying to third wheel with those two anymore than I already do.”

“Oh, you wanna come grocery shopping then?” I arrange myself into a more comfortable position now that I realize this is gonna be a conversation. “I’ll let you pick out some snacks.” I bribe (even though Chanhee never fell for shit like that and was always way harder to bribe than a baby should be).

“Uh, I just wanna talk to you actually like right now if possible.” He’s still firmly outside my room, fingers twitching anxiously against his thigh.

And the weird, buzzing atmosphere Chanhee brought into my room suddenly clicks into place. He’s _nervous_. I don’t wanna make him nervous. “Yeah, of course, come over here.” I make space for him on my bed.

“I think maybe I should stay here…for this.” His eyes sweep the floor and don’t meet mine once.

He twitches like he wants to take up my offer, like he’s fighting an impulse but doesn’t move. “So like the last couple weeks have been good and like things feel normal again, or like some kind of normal at least, and I’m happy with it, really!” He chokes out and then sighs. “Honestly, even if what was happening now wasn’t good I’d still take it because it’s just so much worse when you avoid me or things are awkward. I never realized that it was so easy to miss you because you were always right there but it’s so easy to miss you and I feel like I keep pushing you away so like I’m backing off officially now. I’m not gonna try any shit anymore and we can go back to being friends or groupmates or whatever because I like you more than I want to be with you so you can just forget a lot of what’s happened recently—”

“Baby,” I cut him off softly.

“I guess we don’t have to really talk about it now I just wanted to let you know—”

“Baby, hey,” I try again, “c’mere.” I motion to myself hurriedly.

“Maybe we can cut down on the skinship or something, just for a little while? Just because it’s really gonna sting for a while, like give me some time to get over it, you know?”

“I reciprocate.” I force out over him.

“What?” He looks at me for the first time since he showed up at my doorway.

“I like you too. I want you too. Come here…please?” I scramble to sit myself up and motion towards him.

He stumbles forward like he hasn’t really realized what’s happening yet, like maybe it’s still a dream. I reach out and pull him forward once he gets close enough, wrapping as tightly as I can around him. “What’d you say?” He asks again, still pliant but barely responsive in my arms.

“I like you too.” I whisper into his ear.

He melts into me, finally catching up to things. “Again.” He demands quietly.

“I want you too.” I murmur against him again. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He hits weakly against my chest. “You made me wait a really fucking long time.”

“I know.” I grab his hand and kiss his palm. “I wanted to take it slow because I liked it. I thought it’d be fun to let you have your crush for a while but you probably had enough of that before your birthday, right?”

“I thought about doing that for a while before I finally did.” He muttered weakly.

“How long?” I asked, turning his face to mine. “Three years? Ever since we met?”

He scoffed. “Don’t be so full of yourself, it took a little while but like two years at least.” He finally admits.

“I’m sorry. I was ready to wait forever for the right moment but you had already been waiting forever, right?” He nods, giving me cute puppy dog eyes. “Do you still want a real kiss?” He pouts (straight up _pouts_ ) at me and I know I’m being a little unfair. There’s just something intoxicating about him actually listening, about getting him to do what I want (and I know I’m really in too deep and I’m not getting out any time soon).

I cup his face and kiss him soft and sweet and quick. I let the closeness of us steal the spotlight from the kiss. I wanna start him out as small as possible, wanna pace ourselves. I don’t give him a chance to push into me, to lick at my lips, to pull at my shirt (because I know he _will_ if I give him the chance). I give him barely more than a tease, letting our noses brush and our breaths mingle together instead. I want every step forward to be distinct and memorable and I can’t crush too many things together now.

Chanhee still melts into me quickly, trying to find his place against me, breath catching in his chest. When I open my eyes again, there’s bright color on his cheeks and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s still holding his breath. “Hey, baby,” I breathe out and I can feel the warmth of my words bounce off his face, “ _breathe_.” I instruct.

He heaves out a heavy sigh and I know I’m a fucking _goner_. He’s so easy to muss, to fluster. The little kiss—barely more than a peck—leaves the cutest blush on his face, his cheeks burning under my hand. It’s gonna be fucking hard to hold back, to not let him have whatever he wants when he wants it when he’s so easy to wreck like this. His cute, pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before they curve into an easy smile.

“Was that your first kiss?” I ask even though I’m not sure I should know yet. I’m already so gone, so fucking whipped, so fucking _his_.

“First good one,” his eyes flick down to my lips, “I think you can do better though.” He challenges.

I think about middle school crushes and screen kisses and ill-advised dares. I even entertain the possibility of him sneaking a kiss from Seokwoo or Youngkyun early in our trainee days. And it’s a stupid, terrible part of my brain that says it first but I want to be better so badly. I want to give him the world and everything else even if it means rushing a little bit. I let my hand slip from where it rests on his cheek, trail down his jawline and land on the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there a little bit. “You know what you’re asking for here?”

His eyes are dark and half-lidded, not the wide-eyed, fake innocence he usually exuded. He lets his eyes meet mine for a moment before looking at my lips again and nodding. “I know what I want.”

He’s gonna fucking ruin me. I watch everything spiral out of control, watch all my plans crumble and can’t find it in me to care. I want him. I want him so bad. And I want to give him what he wants, give him everything. “You’re gonna ruin me.” I tell him and watch him shiver at the feeling of my breath.

“Honey, I’m hooooome~” Inseong’s annoying voice rings out through the dorms, startling Chanhee into backing up.

And I know I've waited forever for a good moment (for the _perfect_ moment) but this is pointedly _not_ the right moment. Not with Seokwoo and Inseong returning from their brunch early, barging in on it. And Chanhee has already backed up away from me. So my self control is supplemented by Inseong's bad timing and my plans can happily rebuild themselves. We can slow down again. I’m in control again.

"Youngbin?" Inseong calls again. "Are you ready to go?"

"You wanna go right now?" I yell back, Chanhee's glaring at me now and I suppose it is deserved. 

"I mean, yeah, I'm already ready." Inseong finds his way into my doorway. He has no reaction to all my limbs wrapped around Chanhee or his blush, I guess our closeness is nothing new now. “You wanna come too, Chanhee?” Inseong asks, finally acknowledging that he’s here at all.

He doesn’t answer but I can feel his glare intensify. “Give me a little bit to get ready.” I answer for him.

“Alright, I’ll be chilling on the couch.” I don’t know if Inseong is just fucking dense (I don’t think he is, not with what he normally know about the rest of the group) or if this position is really just so normal, so ordinary for me and Chanhee to be in. Either way, he retreats without comment.

“So you wanna come with?” I ask sheepishly.

“You’re gonna leave me waiting again?” Chanhee challenges. It just feels like one of the challenges he issues because he can, though, the guilt doesn’t really settle with me this time. Because Chanhee _knows_ this time. He knows that if he just waits until the time’s right I’ll give him whatever I can. I’m not leaving him in the dark, making him guess and doubt anymore (and I never will again).

“I’ll let you pick out two snacks.” I hold out my pinky to promise.

“ _Three_ snacks and an ice cream.” He raises, resting his pinky against mine.

“Three snacks and save the ice cream.” I agree.

“Save the ice cream for _what_?” He asks suspiciously.

“A date.” I tell him and confirm the promise with a peck on the lips instead of our pinkies.

His face flames up red again after only barely fading at all. “Okay,” he chokes out.

“C’mon.” I encourage, pulling him up off the bed. He’s plaint, still reeling with shock and it’s easy to get him out the door with me.

We leave the dorms with Inseong, our hands still linked, Chanhee more animated and talkative now. And for all his blustering, avoiding aegyo, calling himself fierce, talented, mature, manly—anything but cute really—Chanhee still is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen (but I’ll still call him manly or whatever in any interview because the way his chest swells at the praise makes my heart clench). And it’s hard to trust myself (or anyone else really) to teach him best, to give him the world, to love him _right_ but I’m ready to give it my best shot. I’m firmly ready, watching him mock the way Inseong told him to do…whatever with the sun bouncing off of shining eyes and his blinding smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was an absolute beast to finish but i was really determined not just to abandon it and we made it! thanks everyone for sticking through the journey, i don't have any current plans to write anymore for sf9 for a while but like...who ever knows?


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